


So the nights bring terrors.

by littlethiefs



Series: Ghost of a Renegade [2]
Category: The Daevabad Trilogy - S. A. Chakraborty
Genre: F/M, Post Book 3: The Empire of Gold, Slice of Life, as well as dara's intense trauma that never goes away, it's both an exploration of a happy domestic life, this is part 2 of my post-eog fic called far from home, you could read it as a standalone though
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-30
Updated: 2020-08-30
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:35:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26195734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlethiefs/pseuds/littlethiefs
Summary: Dara's having a good day in Nahri's little home. That is, until his nightmares return.
Relationships: Darayavahoush e-Afshin/Nahri e-Nahid
Series: Ghost of a Renegade [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1901329
Comments: 6
Kudos: 22





	So the nights bring terrors.

Dara was bored. He was stretched out on Nahri’s sofa, listening to the silence of the house - a silence he had never experienced here before. He hadn’t been back in the city since the first time he’d been snuck in by the Qahtani prince four months ago, and she’d always been with him through the few precious moments he’d spent at her humble abode. But early this morning, an urgent knocking at the door had awakened them both and Nahri, after dressing, gathering her medical instruments while she scarfed down a dry slice of manna bread, had pressed a kiss to his head and rushed out of her home. That had been hours and hours ago, and Dara was bored.

An idea began to take form in his mind, foolish as it was, but he was already stumbling off the sofa and heading to the window. Dara peeked outside at the shafit district’s streets, sprawling with people under the sunset sky. Sneaking out could not have been an option for other daeva, but how fortunate for Dara that he was unlike any other daeva walking the earth. Closing his eyes, he commanded himself to switch forms, feeling himself become feather light. 

When he was sufficiently invisible, he paused, considering how reckless he was being but by the Creator was he bored. He’d already wiped every inch of the house clean and cooked lunch, even though Nahri had not returned to eat it. He’d made the bed, watered her plants, organized all those books she liked to keep her nose glued to in a neat stack by the sofa. Poofed the cushions, straightened the rugs. Like a glorified houseboy. Temple life had instilled in him a strange itch to do menial chores, but those were all done now and Creator knew when Nahri would be back.

He’d be careful, he convinced himself. And before he could talk himself out of it, Dara rushed to Nahri’s bedroom to the open window and slipped outside into her small back garden. Then, he was off, soaring in the sky above a city he had once thought he would never see again. Daevabad sprawled below him, a carpet of newly built brick buildings and holes where others were still being constructed. Of domes and minarets, of people dressed in colorful clothes weaving through the streets towards the Grand Bazaar specked with merchant stalls. He inhaled, his mind going unbidden to the last time he’d taken flight like this in this city - how the air had felt wrong: diseased and rotten. Because of what  _ he’d _ unleashed upon it. It felt like air now, though. Thick and humid as the island perpetually was, but air nonetheless.

Dara flew towards the Daeva quarter, his heart lurching at the sight of the Grand Temple. He wanted to touch down to the ground and go inside, bow before Kartir and thank him for all he had done for him. To sit in silence with the sleeping slave daevas and djinn in the resting place they had been returned to, while their Banu Nahida spent every waking moment not at the hospital with a book pressed to her face, deciphering ancient texts to find a way to free them. But he kept on towards the line of trees rapidly approaching at the edge of the Daeva quarter, the forest alive with the sound of birdsong. 

His feet landed silently on the soft earth and Dara switched back into his mortal form. He was allowed to show himself to Daevabad’s birds, at least. With his hands clasped behind his back, Dara began to walk towards the clearing where he and Nahri had said their farewells all those years ago. It was absurd how his life worked. He had spent so long trying to find a way back to her, shattering every bond they had built in the process, setting her world and his own spectacularly ablaze… and then after, when he had said his goodbyes and come to terms with the idea of never seeing her again, here he was having found his way back once more.

He had barely stepped into the clearing when something slammed into him from the side and Dara fell on his back with a hard thump, sensing a heavy weight on his chest. He hadn’t quite hit the ground when his sharp, fiery magic began to crackle through his veins, but when he saw what had pinned him down, the fire melted away in a roil of smoke. Because holding him in place with a single very heavy, very sharply clawed paw was a disgruntled shedu. Its wings were spread out, the last rays of sunlight glinting off the rainbow-colored feathers and Dara’s eyes widened in awe at being so close to a creature that seemed as if it had been plucked from childhood legends and placed before him.

The shedu, however, was not looking at him with reverence. A growl was rumbling in its throat, and pieces of memories trickled back to Dara, who was becoming uncomfortably aware of the fact that he had injured this very shedu with silver arrows and fire-conjured beasts alike. It seemed to have a good memory.  _ Fuck _ .

“Please don’t eat me,” he blurted as the shedu bared its fangs. “Mishmish.” The name came to him as if Nahri had spoken it into his ear, and the creature narrowed its eyes, surveying Dara with an intelligence that took him aback. “I’m friends with Nahri,” he offered feebly, feeling foolish trying to have a conversation with a damned winged lion. Mishmish lowered its face to Dara’s, who was calling on his magic should things go even further south, but the shedu simply… took a sniff of his skin. Then, it sniffed his jacket before slowly, miraculously, it retrieved its paw and stalked off into a copse of trees.

Catching his breath, Dara got to his feet and dusted the front of his jacket. Almost as an afterthought, he smelled the fabric to realize why Mishmish had retreated, for traces of Nahri’s scent lingered on his clothes. He stood there for a moment, knowing he should leave and not antagonize his Banu Nahida’s pet lion further, but when had Dara ever done the smart thing? Instead, he wondered what shedu eat, thought meat was a safe option and conjured some up. He grimaced at the cooked goat meat in his hands, then followed the shedu deeper into the forest.

Mishmish was sitting leisurely on the earth, watching Dara approach with a deeply unimpressed expression. Dara held out the meat to the shedu, who sniffed at it before turning its head, looking as disgusted as Dara probably had. No meat, then. With a wave of his hand went the meat and came a carrot, which the shedu took a bite of and promptly spit out, shaking its mane of vast hair, looking haughty and bored. Dara almost laughed, remembering what Nahri had said to him in her letter about how her egotistical pet reminded her of him. But his laugh died on his lips when he remembered something else she’d written about this arrogant creature’s fondness of fruit, which seemed to be leading to a city-wide shortage.

Concentrating on the taste of juicy red and green apples, of soft pears and fragrant oranges, Dara called up a feast for the shedu, who visibly perked up at the sight of all the colorful fruit. As Mishmish began to chew on one of the apples, Dara took a seat beside the shedu, leaning against a tree trunk.

“I am sorry for shooting at you,” he murmured, reaching out and running a hand over its flank. Mishmish continued eating and Dara smiled. Perhaps he’d made another friend.

When he slipped back through Nahri’s bedroom window an hour later, he was greeted with frantic footsteps coming from the main room. Perplexed, he made his way over to see Nahri pacing and muttering under her breath, her hair falling in wild tangles around her head. When she saw him, she rushed over and swatted his arm. “Where the  _ hell _ have you been?”

“Out,” Dara replied, rubbing the skin where she’d smacked him.

“ _ Out _ ? I come back from the hospital to find you gone with no one to ask where you went, and you say you were  _ out _ ? I thought they found you and took you! Have you lost your mind?” She smacked him again on his other arm and Dara stepped back with a welp, shrinking back - less from her beatings, more from the wild fury in her eyes. 

“I was bored-” he began, but she threw up her hands in frustration and turned away from him, “-and I switched to my other form and left for barely over an hour, I swear. No one saw me, but in hindsight, I should have left you a note.” She faced him, crossing her arms over her chest, some of the anger ebbing away from her expression. Self-consciously, Dara rubbed the back of his neck and offered her a sheepish smile. “My apologies.”

“Don’t do that again,” she sighed after a while, plopping down on her sofa and raising her feet to the table. “Or I’ll lock my doors and windows, and you can sleep outside in the garden.”

“It is rather endearing when you worry about me, little thief,” he grinned, ducking when she threw a cushion at him. “I met your shedu. Lovely creature. Almost killed me.”

“I’m sure you deserved it.”

“He doesn’t forget old slights, does he?” Dara asked, making his way to the little kitchen and uncovering the platters and bowls he’d set lunch aside in. Using a conjured flame in his hand, he began to warm the food.

“I did mention that he reminds me of you,” she replied, a smile in her voice as she watched him work. Dara carried the food over to her table, stuffing a bowl with rice topped with lentils and handing it to her. “You cooked?” she asked, taking the hot bowl in both hands and peering at him through narrowed eyes.

“I did. Eat.” He instructed and Nahri took a bite before groaning appreciatively. “Do you like it?” Instead of answering, she shoved another spoonful in her mouth. He felt his mouth tug up in a smile before he remembered to taste it himself.

“And you  _ cleaned _ ,” she exclaimed, looking around at her meticulously tidy house, free of dust and stray scrolls and unfolded blankets. “Ya, Dara, I could get used to this. Coming back from work to a cooked meal and a clean house.”

“I am at your service, though I notice  _ my _ presence did not factor in that little fantasy of yours.”

“You’re trouble,” she flashed him a coy smile that made his stomach flip before reaching over and kissing him on his cheek. “But I can see that the temple has had some effect on you. Look at you, doing boring chores like a proper house husband.” The word startled him, even as he was repeating it to her in a tone of utter bafflement.

“Husband?”

She caught herself, a flush stealing into her cheeks but she had never been one to back down from a challenge. So she sat up straighter and said, “Don’t tell me you’d turn me down again if I proposed to you. Have you no shame?”

“Propose to me and we’ll see.” He said, even as his heart thudded erratically in his chest. He could picture it even now… over a decade ago in the Grand Temple when Nahri had looked at him with fury burning in her eyes, demanding to know why it wasn’t  _ him _ she could marry. He’d been such a fool, placing his idealism, his goals for Daevabad above her... when he thought of the moment it had all gone wrong, that day at the temple was the day he was transported back to. He should have taken her hand and clutched her close, Nahid lineage be damned.

Nahri reached out and touched his chest. She did that often, and he suspected it was to check he was still alive - that there was still a heart beating within him, that he hadn’t reverted back to the empty shell he’d been when they’d first met. When her eyes fluttered to meet his, he knew she heard the uneven beating of his heart beneath her palm. 

“You can’t give me the excuse you gave me last time. We’re fully capable of having children now, I would know,” she winked at him and it was his turn to flush. She laughed, delighted at the effect she had on him before she stroked his cheek. He leaned his head against the wall, gazing at her, still not quite able to believe that he could come here, that after all he had done, he got to be with the woman he loved. Every moment spent with her felt… temporary, as if he was holding his breath, waiting for her to vanish.

“Dara,” she whispered sleepily at him. “Would you spoil me some more and carry me to bed? I’m terribly tired.” Ever the obedient Afshin, Dara got to his feet and scooped her up, hauling her easily over his shoulder and carrying her to her room.

“I worry that when I leave again, you won’t be able to do anything by yourself, Banu Nahida.

Nahri pressed her lips to the side of his neck. “Good. Worry. Perhaps you’ll come back sooner.”

*

Run, little thief _ , he begged her, watching her mount her shedu and take to the sky. The sky above the city he had destroyed, block by block by block. His hand reached back of its own accord even as he tried to stop it, retrieving a silver arrow from his quiver and taking aim at her retreating form. His voice inside his head screamed expletives and wept as his hands let the arrow fly, missing her by a mere inch. Another was already notched and this time, he knew it would land - aimed as it was at the center of her shoulders. Exerting all the control he possibly could, he jerked his bow a fraction of an inch to the side before the arrow flew. Missing her, but hitting her shedu. _

_ And then the burning garden with its charred ground, the smoldering trees and amidst it all… Nahri. An icy blade held in her hand, staring at him with wild eyes shining with unshed tears while his own evaporated away.  _ Do it _. She hesitated, the dagger trembling in her hands.  _ Kill me _.  _

_ Then the feel of her slamming into him, throwing her arms up to protect him before ash rained down on them, coating their bodies. And then he was free, and he wept at her, screamed at her to run, to flee, to leave lest she end up like him with a fate worse than death - but she did not, and he knocked the blade easily out of her hands. Nahri watched him with utter betrayal, but he was the devil. He was death itself and he watched himself grasp her by her collar, lifting her off the ground as she clawed at his arm. The arm marked with the tally of the masters he’d killed. A twist of his hand, and her neck would snap and it would only take a fraction of a secon- _

_ “Wake up,” she croaked and he frowned. “Dara-” _

“-wake up!” Someone was shaking him, voice desperate and frightened. His eyes snapped open to see  _ Nahri _ bent over him, the blood drained from her face. No, no, no, no-

“No,” he hissed, realizing when the word left his lips that Manizheh’s control had slipped. It had slipped, and Nahri needed to do it before he could hurt her, before he could hurt anyone else in the city. Blindly, Dara scrabbled at his waist, shouting with frustration when he didn’t find a weapon. But then he saw a familiar dagger on the nightstand, which he grabbed, unsheathed and forced into her hands. “Kill me. You need to do it before she regains control and makes a command of me, Nahri. Do it.”

“Wha-”

“Kill me!” He screamed, bringing her hand towards him with enough strength that the point of the blade rested at his throat. She was screaming, sobbing hysterically. Pulling the blade away from his throat with all the strength she could muster.

“Dara, stop,” she cried. “Stop! She’s dead! Dara, Manizheh’s dead!” At that, his hold on her hand - on the knife - loosened and she snatched it out of his fingers and flung it away. It clattered noisily to the floor, followed by a deafening silence.

The haze seemed to lift slowly, slowly and then all at once. He felt his own tears streaming down his face, disappearing into his hair. He tried to move his fingers, exhaling shakily when they obeyed his will. Free. He was  _ free _ . Then, hands on his face - soft and gentle, wiping his tears away even as more welled up. Nahri pulled his head into her lap, shushing him, trembling with her own sobs while she stroked his hair, her tears dripping from her nose and onto his cheeks. Dara curled into her and wrapped both arms around her waist. 

Then, he wept. 

After what seemed like hours, she spoke, her words so hushed he had to strain to hear them. “Does that happen often? The nightmares?” He was quiet, not wanting to worry her any further.

“Yes,” he answered finally. “Every night, at first - but I have not had one for a while.” She pushed his hair back from his forehead. “I am sorry, I do not know what happened. Usually, I am able to distinguish reality from the nightmares, but…” the next words came out in a hush. “I saw you while my eyes were closed and you when I opened them, and I…”

“Is that-” she paused, swallowing. “Is that what you were thinking? That day?”

“You putting that dagger through my lungs and throat was the only way it would have stopped.” He confessed and he heard her stifle a sob. He raised himself to his knees until he was eye level with her, trying to smile and catching her tears with his thumb. “Nahri, I am okay.” She met his gaze with her swollen eyes before closing the distance between them to kiss his forehead.

“Your nightmares, your traumas, your pain - it’s all mine too now,” she whispered against his skin and Dara squeezed his eyes shut, his hands trembling as he fiddled with the hem of her shirt. He sank into her embrace, letting the words wash over him, “Don’t hide them from me, my love.” 

After a long while, Dara nodded. She reached out again and placed her hand over his chest. She felt his heart thudding like a war drum in his ribcage and he listened to her breathe, telling himself with every breath that he was alive. That he was safe. That he was  _ free _ .


End file.
